


i walk a world of color

by Aanya_Inure



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, but it is an angsty bit of piece here, i'm not sure if this can actually be counted as Killugon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aanya_Inure/pseuds/Aanya_Inure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua closed his eyes.</p><p>“Break me once, shame on you.”</p><p>The mantra was whispered into white clouds.</p><p>“ Break me twice,” he takes another breath. Of course he missed Gon. But parts of him were yet raw, a deep sense of caution now curled his spine. If he lets himself be broken again…</p><p>“Shame on me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i walk a world of color

If Gon could feel, he thinks he would feel sad.

The hushed voices of Leorio and Mito slipped beneath the door crack and caught on his ears.

_“…doctors proscribed…”_

_“…not like himself…”_

_“…get better…”_

If Gon could feel, he thinks he might be ashamed.

But he finds himself lacking just that; to feel. The sensation of needles prickling his tired arm, instead resided on the inside of his skin, on his heart, on his mind.

He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t know what to feel.

When had everything, the lush of foliage and the roar of waves; when had it all turned gray?

It was fading. Everything was fading. He was fading, he thinks, though he’s not quite sure.

The medicine bottles at his bedside tell him he is. They whisper his every flaw, and with every dreaded morning and every long stretched twilight, Aunt Mito comes to beckon the pills to his throat.

They are suppose to make him feel better. Feel normal.

Maybe they will stabilize him again. Maybe he’ll be able to go fishing without finding the usual thrill dull. Maybe the bed covers won’t claw him under and make him stay till noon, tell him ‘why get up’, what is there to look forward to?

Perched at the window, Gon blinks, semi-surprised at the feeling of his lashes leaking. Swallowing saliva, he lets his body shudder and spill more salt.

Maybe this feeling, this thought, this lifestyle of despair will leave him.

On the walls, there’s an echo of a boy with sunny-smiles; this strange and naive boy would leap into each day with almost foolish enthusiasm. He’s the same boy who had calloused finger pads from rods and reels, who followed danger in the wake of his lost father.

The boy who was strong.

The boy who never gave up.

What happened to him?

Fluttering away his blurring vision, Gon winced; for he knew what happened to that boy. That stupid, stupid boy.

A scream.

A selfish sacrifice.

A savior.

Four years ago; he had left this house and jumped into a myriad of chaos. Life in games, in competition towers, and twisted tests. He had seen the world in color. The chromatic tints he had worn like a cloak, his favorite hues hovering nearby in the form of his friends.

A warm brown, a father’s thoughts, and a doctor’s healing hands.

The steady of gray and the will of scarlet. Wisdom in words and the soft presence that soothes.

His blue eyes, his violet veins, and his loyal entity, in the scent of storm and sweat. His companion in colors of silver and star.

Is this why the days have fallen? 

Was he lonely? Was ‘lonely’ what you would call the hollow ache in his gut?

Gon’s lip strained under his teeth. 

Was it possible to stop this sinking?

And truly, does it even matter anymore?

___

“Look, old man, I don’t think-”

_“It’s only going to get worse the longer it’s put off.”_

“…It’s not like I can drop everything right away. And I don’t see what you think I could do to help. In fact I would probably just make things worse!”

_“Killua…”_

“…”

_“He’s your best friend.”_

He swallows.“…I know….”

“Three days. I’ll be there in three.”

_“Good. That’s all we’re asking for. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be easier than you think.”_

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll stop eating chocolate.”

_“Don’t get cheeky brat, I-”_

**Click**

Killua let the screen fade; fitting his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. The balcony breeze sifted through his hair, the air moist, almost damp, with the scent of a storm on its way.

Fists gripping the steel bar, he wrung the metal bent, pushing himself off the rail till his back was against the brick wall. He let his head fall back, baring his throat to the wind and exhaled through his nose.

They say Gon needs him.

And it sounds like an echo, an imprint of his own memories when he told himself the same.

_-No, I can’t leave yet. Gon needs me.- I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve to be here. But Gon needs me-He needs me. Gon needs- Gon…doesn’t need me.- He doesn’t…need me-_

A dry laugh spills to the air. Quite foolish really, he thinks. He knows better now of course.

And he’s moved on. He’s forgiven. He’s learned his lesson through taping heart shards, through a price of blood, and sweat and tears and-

Trust. That was sacrificed too.

Killua finds it strange that forgiving is what most find hard; to him, it’s the memories. It’s the images that can crawl into the crevices of your dreams. It’s the triggers pulled like puppet strings, bringing forth resurfaced thoughts.

Killua has forgiven; forgetting however…time was still mending.

Oh what bitter irony, the wry smile on his lips told; that after all of this, they say Gon needs him. How wrong they are, ignorant to their own lies.

No, Gon does not need him. He never has.

And Killua, Killua doesn’t need Gon either. He knows that now.

 _-but to want-_ his mind betrays, his mind beckons _-wanting-_

He has long since learned to cast such whispers aside. The building pressure on his temples from the force of his thoughts; if he’s expected to arrive in three days, he would need to leave now.

At last he stood straight, hands weaving behind his head in an oblong stretch. His each muscle pulled like stiff rubber, and a quick crack in his neck like loosening screws.

Killua closed his eyes.

“Break me once, shame on you.”

The mantra was whispered into white clouds.

“ Break me twice,” he takes another breath. Of course he missed Gon. But parts of him were yet raw, a deep sense of caution now curled his spine. If he lets himself be broken again…

“Shame on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> ....srry?


End file.
